


Birthday Reflections

by ItsClydeBitches



Category: Good Wife (TV), The Good Wife (TV)
Genre: Birthday, Birthday Presents, Celebrations, Coffee, Daughters, Embarrassment, Gen, Humor, Rivalry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-26
Updated: 2013-04-26
Packaged: 2017-12-09 14:09:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/775091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsClydeBitches/pseuds/ItsClydeBitches
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Eli's birthday. Alicia celebrates with gifts and a healthy dose of embarrassment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Birthday Reflections

**Author's Note:**

> So… The Good Wife. I started it with my mom over Christmas (we have TV deals: she introduces me to a show (The Good Wife,) I introduce her to a show (Supernatural,) we both become obsessed, and alternate every two or three episodes. It’s a good system.) I flew through the rest of the series on my own, now eagerly await each Sunday night, tore through the majority of the fanfiction, bemoaned the fact that so little of it focused on Eli… and then thought that if I was gonna complain about it, I’d better be contributing. So here’s an Eli fic. And if you’re not watching The Good Wife, you should seriously rethink your life choices :) Enjoy!

What idiot built a law firm out of glass?

Eli twirled in his chair, his rotation allowing him brief glimpses of all the busy little bees around him. Such interesting stories they told. Right in front was Diane, angrily leaning into Will's space, no doubt shouting something both abusive and naive. To his left, David Lee jauntily prowled the corridors like some psychotic fox. The lives of these people, laid out for his entertainment... and his profit. 

"Honestly," he said, twirling now to the right. "A business founded on secrets, deceit, manipulation - and they choose glass." 

“Talking to yourself again?”

Another perk: glass also allowed one to see who was coming, so by the time Alicia poked her head in he’d straightened his chair, smoothed his shirt, and made sure to look all professional-like. 

“But of course,” he said. “I am the best conversationalist I know.” 

Alicia snorted, giving him ‘the look.’ It was almost certainly the look she gave to her kids, back when they were five and had begun learning how to implement attitude and sass. It wasn’t a particularly flattering look but he’d gotten it enough times to start thinking it was his. A designated look from Alicia Florrick was nothing to sneeze at. 

He waved her towards a seat, watching appreciatively as she settled and kicked off her heels. The black pumps landed somewhat hazardously against the bottom of his desk and her stockinged feet curled against the rungs of the chair. Eli took a moment to appreciate the novelty. There weren’t many people who’d relax this much in his presence. Marissa, certainly. Vanessa… sometimes. If they didn’t talk, and if there was enough alcohol involved. Scotch, preferably. So yes, it was refreshing to see a woman kick back – literally - while he was in the vicinity, even if she was the boss’s wife and was pressured from all sides to keep peace with the man who’d bring her husband political fame. He’d take what he could get. 

Either that, or Alicia was ditching the heels to make a quick escape if need be. 

Eli’s smile turned a tad sour. 

“Saint Alicia. To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”

Her own expression puckered at the nickname but she shrugged the question away, instead pointing to his own mouth. 

“What’s with the soliloquy? Prepping to make another colleague cry?” 

“Of course not! That’s only on Wednesdays. The incompetents are given assessments detailing their offences and general idiocy.” Eli nodded behind her to where Diane was still shouting. “Right now I am an innocent bystander, reflecting on the pros and cons of glass.” 

“… Glass?”

“Oh yes, Alicia. Take, for example, those two,” as if on cue both voices of the party in question gained volume, a crescendo of anger and insults. Eli could just make out the "-seriously?!" at the end of Diane's sentence and something that sounded like an expletive from Will. "That's a performance if ever I saw one,” he said. 

Alicia arched an eyebrow. "You think so?" 

"Yep. Glass is wonderfully misleading. Throw a group of liars into a transparent cage, tell them it's transparent, and watch the scheming kick into high gear. Everyone’s an actor when they know they’re on camera, Alicia. Diane? She's never so obvious in her aggression. Piss her off enough and she leans carelessly back in her chair. Might even prop her feet up. She’ll do anything to convince you she's still got the upper hand. Tease you and mislead you until she’s got her pretty little fangs positioned against your neck."

"And I assume you know this from experience?" 

Eli grinned, dodging her question in turn. "And then there’s Will. My dear Alicia, you of all people should know that's not how he throws a temper tantrum." 

Glancing behind her she took in the aggressive stance of her boss, his childish finger wagging in Diane’s face. Alicia delicately traced her own finger against her lip and Eli could tell she was trying not to smile. 

"Hmm. He does roll his eyes a lot. Pouts. Might throw in a derisive joke or two."

"And when he's really mad?" 

This time Alicia did smile, an explosion of teeth that brightened Eli’s day. "He'll pick up his baseball bat. Play with it a little. I expect it's his not so subtle, masculine fueled way of trying to intimidate. Are all you men so juvenile?" 

"God, yes. Like right now? All I want is food. Preferably something disgustingly greasy and artery clogging. Then I want a nap. Then I want the entire human population to go jump off a cliff. Like lemmings." 

"Even me?" Alicia was all wide, innocent eyes and fluttering hands. 

“Keep charming the unwashed masses as you do and I’ll think it over.” 

This is what he loved about Alicia. Her entire face sobered, obviously giving his offer considerable thought. The mask was perfect, and anyone walking in the room right now would think they were having a sensible, non-homicidal discussion. A life married to a politician and juggling biased judges had trained her well. He felt inclined to point this lovely little talent out. 

“See, you’re performing too.” 

She merely shrugged. “Any idea why our bosses are putting on a show, then? That’s the million dollar question.” 

“A lot more than a million I’d wager. But hell if I know. No doubt plotting something nefarious to make my life miserable." 

“Because it’s all about you.” 

“Obviously.”

"Well I can’t knock off the human race for you – sorry - but I've got a little something that might cheer you up." Alicia splayed her hands in a gesture of offering. 

Eli could literally feel himself being pulled in two directions. Half of him - more than half if he was perfectly honest - immediately wanted to lean back, wary of anything that supposedly involved 'cheer.' The other half was masochistically interested in whatever Alicia had to offer. Furthermore, from a purely practical standpoint, he’d trained himself to consider any and all offers. One only got ahead in this life by answering each phone call, agreeing to the meetings, and, if something had even the potential to be beneficial, you snatched it up, before someone else got the chance to throw it back in your face. Those who hesitated got left, trampled, and resigned to the dust. 

And yet, practicality aside, let it never be said that Eli Gold wasn't brave. 

"Do tell,” he said. 

Alicia stood, holding up a finger as she sauntered out of his office, while many of the men took note of her shoeless feet as she passed. That little rebellion was so very Alicia: whimsical and innocent, yet with an undercurrent of power. She’d reached the stage in her career where professionalism could go fuck itself if the well-connected associate told it to. Her stockinged toes dug into the carpet and her heels were adored as they rounded every corner. Of course, right there was a serious disadvantage to glass – the presentation of unavailable eye candy. Eli flipped off David as he passed by, an appreciative bit of tongue inching out, and received double the courtesy in return. 

By leaning to his left Eli could just make out the edge of Alicia’s own office where Cary sat engaging in a heated phone call. As she entered Alicia touched his shoulder, hardly a brush, and Cary relaxed, shooting her a grim smile. She returned it, shook her head, and then waved him on with a ‘whaddya gonna do?’ air. If he could put money on it - and too bad he couldn't - Eli would guess it was the Weaver case. Everyone and their ancestors had heard Mrs. Weaver's ravings these past months, lamenting the "truly despicable, why, I've never heard such drivel-" prenup that her daughter was entering into. He'd have to remember to buy Alicia a drink when this idiocy was finally over (or when someone dismembered the old bat). She looked like she needed it along with a truckload of Aspirin. 

The woman in question was currently dipping into her desk. Eli couldn't see what she took out, glass or no glass, but whatever it was, it was small enough to be hidden behind her back. Alicia gave Cary one last look, who facepalmed in response, and then strolled back his way, expression smug and hands kept deliberately from view. 

Eli was in the process of making himself look appropriately lazy – chair back, pen to play with - when Alicia suddenly veered to the right, heading towards the break room. Of course, by the time she'd fully turned whatever had been behind her back was now up front. Lockhart and Gardner’s Golden Girl was good at playing hide and seek. 

"Dammit." 

She was gone about five minutes. 

When Alicia finally rounded the corner again Eli was surprised to see that whatever she’d taken from her desk was gone – or hidden in her blouse – and instead a coffee cup was held in both hands. It wasn’t one of those plastic monstrosities from hipster cafes either. A true, china, so-small-you-wonder-why-you-bothered-but-the-caffeine-probably-packs-a-punch coffee cup. The stupid thing even had a saucer. 

What was more surprising was the strength of the smell: the sweet, mildly bitter aroma of espresso. It immediately filled his office and seeped into Eli’s suit, settling there, painfully reminding him that he hadn’t had any coffee since 8:00 this morning. This late in the day any caffeine would have done, but this particular smell was recognizably pungent. Alicia had herself a cappuccino, though where she’d found one in their fast paced world of ready-made sludge and the occasional Starbucks, he couldn’t begin to guess. 

She placed it on his desk and, when he only eyed it suspiciously, gently pushed it forward with one manicured nail. 

From his new perspective Eli could see all the wonderful details. There was a generous amount of foam on top, stenciled in artful swirls and intertwined with bits of shaved chocolate. He could still see the steam, evaporating off the sides, and there was a tiny drop that had escaped, rolling towards the saucer. It should have ruined the picture perfect image but instead it was tantalizing sweet; a single bit of brown flaunted against the white. Slowly, as if fearing it might jump off his desk and run far, far away, Eli placed his hand against the cup’s side. His nail caught the droplet and he pulled everything back. The slight reddening of his fingers told him that by the time he’d finished admiring this rarity it would be the perfect temperature for drinking. 

“Did you sell your soul for this?” he asked. 

“Happy birthday.” 

Well now. 

Those were the last words he’d expected to ever come out of Alicia Florrick’s mouth. Although Eli prided himself on an excellent poker face, he was exceedingly grateful that he hadn’t actually been drinking her gift. If he had, his suit and her face would have been blanketed by her well wishes. Small favors. But what to do now? Most would have thanked Alicia for such thoughtfulness, despite the surprise. This was the perfect opportunity to engage in one of the rehearsed, mutually beneficial conversations that had been drafted for acquaintances in ages past. But Alicia wasn’t exactly an acquaintance. And Eli Gold was not most people. So instead, he reverted to what he knew best: damage control.

“Who told you?” he snapped. 

“Oh come on, Eli-”

“No. No-” Ignoring the coffee Eli snatched up his phone and started flipping through the contacts. Going through the lot of them would literally take hours, so he’d have to prioritize. Section 1: those who desired his political suicide. Section 2: those who desired his literal suicide. Where or where to begin?

“I don’t blame you for this, Alicia” he said, one hand scrolling madly. “Scout’s honor.” 

“Like you were ever a boy scout.”

“-but there is a traitor in my midst. A Judas.” Eli stabbed viciously at the phone, one name catching his eye as it flew past. Even the text, with its stupid Helvetica font, screamed idiocy so loud it rocked his Valentino case. That right there was a match, folks. 

“It was Frank, wasn’t it?” he growled. “Wasn’t it? Oh that useless moron. He’s had his boxers knotted up his ass ever since I reamed him out for that residency debacle which, I might add, he should have been drawn quartered for! Frank Landau. Frank fucking Landau. That fat, insufferable, stupid son of a-”

He paused. Alicia was swallowing convulsively, one hand covering her mouth. 

"What?"

She shook her head, hair whipping across her face. When it cleared the grin had sprung forth, incredulous and slightly mocking. "You really think I've been hanging out with Landau?" she asked. 

"There is no 'hanging out' with him. He worms his way in. He's a parasite, Alicia. You'd do best to sterilize yourself. Purification."

Reaching forward, Alicia took hold of the phone, pulling it from his grasp. Their wrists brushed and Eli got a look at her Georgetown ring, gleaming with polish. She placed the phone against the edge of the desk - thoughtfully still in his line of sight - and once again pushed the cappuccino forward. By now it had cooled somewhat and the foam was a little flatter but overall still enticing. The message really couldn't have been more blunt: take a breath, Eli. Yes, I'm calling you out on this bullshit. The exaggerated anger, deliberately humorous and disarming, used to cover your surprise. Yes, I discovered your birthday. Remembered it even. Acted on it. Now I’m asking for something in return, just this once: refrain from pulling so far back. Drink your coffee, Eli. It's a simple task, but it represents a lot. Warm yourself. 

All of it said with a tiny push forward. Alicia nodded. 

So Eli drank his drink, sullenly, and it was as good as he knew it would be. 

"I'll still kill him," he grumbled. 

"It wasn't Frank, Eli." Magically drawing up a napkin she folded it and tucked it near his hand. How very mother-ish she was in this moment. Alicia had two kids, an emotionally receptive brother, and nearly everyone she met - strangers, co-workers, and bosses alike - looked to her for support. Of course she'd be inclined to celebrate a birthday. Even his. 

"Besides," she continued, blithely ignoring his thoughts, "if you really wanted to murder my informant you'd be committing filicide." 

The cup halted halfway to his lips. 

"Marissa." he breathed. 

"Yep."

"Marissa!" 

"It is reassuring that you know your daughter's name, Eli." 

“Marissa!!” The saucer came down too hard, coffee cup along with it, and a splatter of liquid escaped. Alicia eyed his napkin but didn’t dare move. 

"When did you two speak?” Eli flailed somewhat, simple hand gestures proving inadequate in expressing such emotion. “Have you even met? Wait! Yes. That brunch. And outside the courtroom during-”

“Last year’s blizzard,” she finished. “I lent her my scarf, since, apparently, you haven’t taught your child to dress properly. Honestly, Eli, a cardigan? It’s Chicago! You should get her some more wool turtlenecks. Like that green knit she has. With the cables?”

“Oh god..." She knew his daughter’s wardrobe. A terrifying thought occurred to him. "How often do you two speak?" 

Just then there was a knock on his doorframe, freezing Alicia's wicked grin in place. 

"Alicia?" 

Kalinda edged into the room, her eyes sweeping and taking in their expressions. In an instant she seemed to decide that whatever could simultaneously upset him and elate Alicia was definitely something to know about. 

"… What's going on?" she asked. 

"Nothing," Alicia said, but the way she gave a little nod Kalinda’s way, as only two women can, Eli knew that 'nothing' really translated to, 'I'll tell you everything later just let me pacify the man first.' Kalinda smirked. 

He was so very screwed. 

"Here." Kalinda handed Alicia a bright blue sticky note, one Eli recognized from Cary's desk. “It’s about Mrs. Weaver…”

“Of course it is.” 

“Actually,” she thumbed a pen over her shoulder to where Cary now stood down the hall. “Things might be looking up.”

Cary was leaning casually, a little too casually, with his ankles crossed and fingers weaving against his tie. His entire posture had the air of a GQ pose, the only thing ruining it was the blush spreading across his cheeks and neck. The red splotch was an embarrassment beacon Eli could have seen from outer space and Lilly, the new intern, was eyeing their poor Cary like he was a two inch pork chop sided with a twice baked potato, three heaps of mixed green, and she was the starving trucker. 

“Is he alright?” Alicia strained out of her chair to get a closer look. 

“He’ll live,” Kalinda said. “See, Mrs. Weaver has been speaking extensively with us for weeks now regarding the prenup. She lives in California, Saratoga I think, but despite the distance she’s still very concerned with her daughter and the thoughtlessness of her marital choices.” Kalinda rolled her eyes. “And of course, she’s paying the bills. So she and Cary have been bargaining for ages. It’s trying.”

Alicia gave her an odd look. “Yeah… I have been working on the case too, you know. On and off.”

“They’ve been chatting for weeks, Alicia, but over the phone.” 

“…Ah.” 

Alicia’s face began glowing as red as Cary’s, but her color change was due entirely to laughter. 

“What?” Eli floundered between the two women. “What’s going on?”

Kalinda gave him a look, one he thought she probably only reserved for males. “Things have been at a complete stand-still, Eli. This morning was just as bad.” Alicia nodded, one hand fisting in her mouth. “Except that, about ten minutes ago, Mrs. Weaver decided to try out that ‘googling nonsense,’” the exaggerated air quotes suggested Kalinda had been listening in on that particular portion of the conversation, “and discovered a picture of our lovely Mr. Agos.” 

Eli starred. 

Alicia howled, having finally gotten a look at the post-it. “‘Athletic,’ ‘noble,’ ‘robust,’ ‘dashing,’ ‘such a prettyboy’… ‘hunk’? Really?” She crushed the paper in her mirth. 

“That list is just a sample of the adjectives she used to describe him. In under three minutes, I might add.” Kalinda snickered. “I think Cary might be able to close the Weaver case, provided he agrees to meet her in person. She’s flying out next week.”

“To visit her daughter, of course,” Eli drawled. 

“Of course.” 

Alicia was still laughing into her shoulder. All three of them turned to look out the window at Cary. He gave a tiny, red-faced wave. 

“How old is Mrs. Weaver?” Eli asked. 

“Ugh!” 

“I’m done.” Kalinda shook her head, grasping the doorframe. “Oh, but Diane wants you in her office later today, Alicia. No rush.” 

“Thanks,” she giggled. 

“And where’d you get the coffee?” Kalinda eyes honed in on Eli’s half drunk cup. With the humor starting to die down he suddenly felt very protective over his little, ridiculous birthday gift. 

“Break room,” Alicia said. “There’s a new espresso machine.”

“There is?”

“There is?!” 

Alicia’s gaze tennis hopped between them both. She settled on Eli. “Yeah. What, you thought the coffee was it? That’s not a gift, Eli! Besides, didn’t you tell Will once that you wanted one for the office? Well, there you go.”

A grin was starting to split his face. He felt almost buoyant. “You remembered.”

“Mm hmm.” Alicia gave a slight smile in return. Kalinda, meanwhile, edged away. 

“… Right. I’m leaving.” She pointed unnecessarily back in Cary’s direction. “Get myself some coffee.” 

“Don’t break my machine! That’s Gold property now!” 

When Eli turned back he was still grinning – mornings here would be so much better now. Have one decent cup of caffeine, throw the other down the front of David’s pants – until he found Alicia giving him ‘the look’ again and their previous conversation came rushing back. Birthdays. Embarrassment. The unholy partnership between Marissa and his boss’s wife. 

Fuck. 

"Marissa," Alicia jumped in, before Eli could even open his mouth. “stopped by last Thursday to see Zach. They're apparently best buds now." 

"Oh my god." Eli collapsed into his chair. 

"Come now, Eli. It’s good that they’re friends! Maybe we'll be related someday... Eli, breathe! Anyway, she mentioned your birthday on her way out. Casually, of course." Alicia gave him another look (did she have a catalogue??), one that said she knew Marissa had picked up that manipulative attitude from him. "She said it would be, ah, 'prudent' for me to know because, how did she put it?... Oh yes, because I'm 'another young woman making dad happy.'" Eli choked. "And then she gave me a brief lecture about protection. I got the sense that wasn't the first time she'd uttered that little speech." 

There were no words. 

"Something I should be aware of, Eli?"

"NO. No. No, no, no, no. Ha! Absolutely no. You know what? I think-" Eli picked up his cup in a panic, inhaling the now lukewarm coffee. "-I think that I very much enjoyed this drink. And I thank you for it, from the bottom of my stone cold heart. But the moment for bonding has passed, sentimentality is dead, and you should really, really go." 

Alicia's cheeks were so red she'd never need rouge again, but she did manage to swallow her laugh. "So you can wallow in your mortification?"

"Yes! Please." 

"Fair enough. Happy birthday, Eli."

"Out. Please, get out." He'd nearly escaped this moment - one he'd look back on with two parts embarrassment and one (large) part ridiculous contentment - when Alicia turned with a clearly faked: "Oh! I almost forgot!" She was half in and out of the office, with one hand pressed against the glass. With that hand she dipped into her blouse – he knew women hid things there! – and pulled out an envelope. From this distance he couldn't make out any details but it occurred to Eli that he'd never seen what she'd taken from her desk. 

"What is that...?" Nice and easy, Mr. Gold. That's it. 

"This?" Alicia still had the exaggerated look of surprise on her face. She flipped the card to face her, gave it a cursory glance. "Oh, nothing. Nothing at all. You wanted me to leave right?"

"Alicia!"

"It's nothing! But really, Eli. Did you think I was just getting you an espresso machine for your birthday? Winning Peter the State Attorney position, coming to work here, even making friends! Its been a big year for you, hasn’t it? No, seriously,” she tried to wave away his scowl. “I am serious. You’ve done well, Eli. Far better than I would have thought two years ago. I underestimated you.” 

She offered him a soft smile, tugging at an earring. Coming back to his desk she leaned in and the only warning he got was the nearness of her perfume before Alicia’s lips were against his cheek and her hand squeezed his own. The kiss wasn’t delicate as he’d expected, but resolved, hot against his skin with a confidence he only played at. It seared, dousing the rest of him in a chill even after the heat of the coffee he’d drunk - the first gift he’d received in years, other than impersonal cards from those trying to curry favor and the deliberately hideous ties Marissa rolled and slipped into his pocket. Both of Alicia’s gifts were simple, and over far too soon. 

She stepped back. 

“Happy birthday, Eli” she said once more and, slipping into her heels, she placed the envelope on his desk. Alicia left. One her way down the hall she picked up Cary, linking their arms in camaraderie. Before he’d fully turned Cary waved to him – seemingly over his embarrassment now – and tapped his left cheek, grinning. 

What?

“Nice accessory, Gold.” David tramped by again (what did he even do here? What was he doing?) and made kissy noises by puckering his lips. Eli lifted his hand and came away with a smear of Alicia’s lipstick. David winked. 

“God dammit!” 

He slammed the door, viciously wiping at his skin. This was it, then. He’d once observed to Alicia that she was going to make his life very difficult and, as was so often the case, he was right. Only now she’d moved away from coldly obstructing his professional life and instead targeted him with social embarrassment and some truly inconvenient feelings. Although he couldn’t hear anything, and the glass showed him an empty hall, Eli would swear that there was laughter rising up to taunt him, Alicia’s included. A very happy birthday indeed. 

But as he reached for a tissue his gaze jumped from the near empty coffee cup to the card she’d left, vibrant against the wood of his desk. He chugged the dregs, now cold, thickening (not thinking about why he wouldn’t let them go to waste) and inched his thumb through the adhesive on the envelope (not thinking about how careful he was being; that he might want to save this, both the object and the experience, for a long time to come). Inside was an equally white note, printed in an official hand that read: 

This card, presented by its creator,  
(Alicia Florrick)  
entitles its recipient  
(Eli Gold)  
to one favor,  
to be redeemed sometime between its presentation  
and six months past.  
Said favor has no restrictions,  
other then that it may not involve Grace and/or Zachery Florrick  
P.S.  
HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

“Alicia…” as if a switch had been thrown his mind was suddenly a whirl, planning days, weeks, a full six months ahead into the campaign. All at once Eli was Charlie and this card was his golden ticket, limitless and so very sweet. He could make her do an interview, any interview, or ask for access to a variety of files. She could make friends, drop friends, maybe even a photo shoot. God, the housewife demographic would love that… 

A few offices away, Alicia’s phone rang. 

“Alicia Florrick.”

“Hey, Mrs. Florrick.”

“Marissa.” Alicia grinned, gathering her things. “Everything okay?”

“Oh yeah. Can I stop by your place tonight? Zach and I want to talk the new Blizzard game.” 

“Of course… but that’s not why you’re calling.”

Silence on the other end. Alicia could imagine the self-satisfied expression. No one wore success quite like a Gold. 

“Well?” Marissa finally asked. 

“I’m pretty sure he’s pissing on cloud nine,” and no one did dry like a Florrick.

“I knew he’d love it!”

“You did indeed.” 

“We rock!”

“We most certainly do.”

On her way to Diane’s office Alicia passed Eli and, through the glass, gave him a little wave. He was having too happy a birthday to notice.


End file.
